Just take the bull by the balls!

Photo by Hans Eiskonen on Unsplash

Recently, I had a very interesting conversation with a female friend living here in Lyon. She’s Asian, like me. She’s also equally pint-sized, and like me, partnered to a French man. So, I’m sure the following is a generalisation but we both share the same issue with regards to our partners. Namely, they are built too large for our anatomy. Like me, she often experiences pain during sexual intercourse and they often have to pause after the initial insertion and then take it very slow. Many positions, as you might imagine, are out of the question. For instance, she can’t ride him. I have issues with this position as well because Master’s cock hits my cervix when I’m on top. Missionary with my legs over his shoulders is also a no-go. We usually stick to missionary, doggy (with adjustments as this can go pretty deep too) and belly down (our favourite). While she didn’t quite share exactly which positions work for her, she had a different concern.

She and her partner are kink-curious. Not quite full-fledged kinky, but they enjoy a bit of power play in the bedroom. They both identify as switches, but while he has dominated her, she has yet to return the favour. Her concern is that if she can’t ride him, how can she effectively take control? In her mind, it would be quite the anticlimax if she were to get him all turned on, and then not be able to fuck him in what she perceives to be the only dominant sex position she can have over him. I understand her concerns entirely. It is true that mass media has ingrained in our minds the concept that a woman in control in the bedroom always has to be on top. But is this so? While I can’t solve her issue of being able to ride her partner without pain, I was able to open her eyes to the multitude of other ways in which a woman can dominate her man/partner without needing to be literally on top.

For starters, who says that kink always has to end in sex? I know it seems a little bit rich for me to say this, considering that ALL of my scenes with Master end in sex, but in my experience as a professional dominatrix, they never did. Of course, there were other factors at play, namely that any form of intercourse/penetration of me was out of the question. I did not engage in fellatio, cunnilingus, anal or vaginal sex (of me) with my clients. If anyone was to be penetrated, it was them. And whilst the premise might have been safety/professionalism at the time, why can’t a dominant woman take all or some of these off the table if she decides? The fact of the matter is that plenty of women do not even orgasm from intercourse. When I masturbate, for instance, I never use insertions. A vibrator on my clitoris is my go-to, and whilst I have tried pairing this with a dildo/vibrator, I’ve found that they do very little for me. Upon enquiry, she shared that she has the same preference, so then, I proposed that a scene in which she is in charge does not have to end in traditional sex.

I shared with her that with kink, the arousal comes more often from the mental than from the physical. Yes, of course, the physical plays a big part. But, even with the physical, I challenge that it is the suspense from not knowing absolutely what is going to be done to you next that drives your arousal, rather than the actual ‘doing’ itself. Considering that they are both beginners to kink, I suggested she start by levelling the playing field through restraining him to the bed (easily done with ties/scarves to the bed posts/legs), blindfolding him (similar ammo) and then playing with sensation, followed by a heck of a lot of teasing. If I were in her shoes, I’d throw in a bit of mindfuckery by teasing him till he finished, then chiding him for not holding back and using that as the rationale for why he won’t get to fuck me. I’d then finish myself off gloriously with a vibrator while he’s either forced to watch or only permitted to listen (if I can’t masturbate comfortably with eyes on me). But, it’s important to note that most men have a period of post-nut clarity so this might be too much for her partner on the first go. I suggested she be a little kinder in delivery.

I found it to be a very stimulating conversation and I do hope she actually tries what I’ve shared with her on her partner. There is nothing more satisfying than having someone with whom you can experiment on kink with, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re hatching new scene ideas and trawling physical or online sex stores together to add to your new collection, which, trust me, will grow very quickly indeed. I’ve talked to quite a number of women, usually vanilla friends, who, upon finding out that I’m kinky (I tend not to hide this aspect of me from my peers), share their reservations about taking a dominant role with their partners in the bedroom. I think society has imposed the idea that women are supposed to be more submissive in bed, and it takes a very special sort of woman to throw this notion to the wind. When I first started exploring my dominant side, I faced similar challenges. I wasn’t confident in the beginning. I planned all of my scenes from start to finish (still a good practice), and I even relied on a script to know what to say. But really, it’s somewhat like riding a bike. The more you do it, the better you get at it, the less tedious the preparation needs to be. So to the women out there who are hesitant at taking the lead (but who want to, of course), just grab the bull by the balls and take it for a spin.

Musings on life

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Locktober is nearly over. There are just five days till the end of the month. I haven’t cum. My last orgasm was on the last day of September. It hasn’t been a particularly difficult Locktober for me. Master has been extremely busy with work so we haven’t played that much. That’s not to say it was a famine; we did manage to squeeze in a handful of very satisfying sessions in the past three weeks. I’ve had short bursts where the arousal was quite heady, but more or less, it’s been a nice slow burn.

I’m not absolutely certain that I’ll get to cum once Locktober is done. Master has hinted that he likes me on denial. I’m easily aroused and a lot more submissive. At this current moment, I can’t say that I have much of an opinion on whether I get to cum or not. I do enjoy being kept in the state of denial, and I havent quite peaked yet. The last time I was denied for a long period, I held out for two months… or was it three? I’m not sure. Anyway, I haven’t reached the point where my body is screaming for release and I think I’d like to get there before cumming. But it’s up to Master, of course.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my marriage of late, in a good way. I’ve been feeling very grateful to the universe or God/fate for bringing me and Master together. I’m not particularly religious, but I do believe in a higher power. I’m agnostic, I’d say. I find it incredible that I found the love of my life in someone born in an entirely different continent from me. Had Master not made the decision to head to Asia to work, we’d never have met. The irony is that it was his then-girlfriend who had pushed him to make the move, so I guess I have her to thank.

I just watched a series on Netflix called “From Scratch” about an American lady finding her soulmate in Italy, whilst on a six week long art immersion programme. I highly recommend it if you need a good cry. It’s a real tear jerker and had me bawling towards the end… to the point where Master had to text me: “Stop crying, piggy. I can’t wank.” I thought that was hilarious, of course, and so he was then treated to the ugly sounds of my laugh-crying/cry-laughing.

The show made me reflect on the work we have done to merge our different cultures. When Master was in Singapore, he had to learn about my culture, meet my family, learn how to communicate with them. And now that I am in France, it is an ongoing process for me to learn the language, the culture, the social nuances. There are a lot of differences. For instance, my family is quite typically Asian. We rarely touch, we rarely display emotion. It’s been eye-opening for me to see just how warm and caring his family is towards one another.

Recently, my father-in-law had to undergo an operation. It was relatively low risk, but there’s always a risk when one goes under the knife. The night before, he texted/called all his children to tell them that he loved them. I wasn’t expecting a message but I received one. He told me that he loves me like a daughter, and asked me to continue taking care of Master should anything happen to him. In the moment when I received the message, I was extremely emotional, but I also felt sorely ill-equipped. I didn’t know what to say in response, settling for something that did not quite encapsulate what I felt.

And this is something I am learning – to say what I mean and mean what I say. In getting to know Master, his family and other French friends, I’ve come to realise that they rarely hide their thoughts and opinions from you once they consider you a friend. This is so contrary to the Asian way of doing things. At home, the closer you get to a person, the less likely you are to want to offend them. Often, we censor our words so as not to create conflict and to avoid confrontations.

Here, the sharing of thoughts and opinions in the form of healthy debate is expected and appreciated. There is no shame in having your opinion challenged as it’s all done in good spirit. We do not shy away from confrontations and the night still ends on a high note even if the conversation runs a tad tense. Of course, we stay away from the very sensitive topics (like politics on which nobody can agree) because the objective is not to offend or argue for the sake of argument, but to engage in intellectual discourse about a variety of subjects. I appreciate this.

I feel like I have gained so much from Master. On the personal front, he has taught me to better express my emotions, to manage and let go of my anxiety, and to be a happier and more present human being. When we have disputes, he encourages me to share my thoughts and feelings and he does the same, all without pointing fingers. And then, together, we mutually decide on a course of action to take. We don’t shy away from apologising to the other, and we always end our disputes with a good long hug and multiple ‘I love you’s.

On the ‘life’ front, he’s given me a new home – one I absolutely adore. I often feel guilty about barely missing Singapore, but it is the country that carries a lot of heartache for me… with my ex, my dysfunctional family, my life lived for others but not myself. Here, I feel content, free and at peace. After so many years of fumbling around in the dark, wondering whether every relationship needs that much tolerance and effort to make it work, I am so thankful to have a husband who leads our household with strength and confidence and who tells me things like, “You’re a wonderful wife. I hope I deserve you.”

Sorry this wasn’t particularly kinky. Just some thoughts in my head that I really needed to put into words. 🙂

Recuperative Reflections

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

The past two weeks have been incredibly dreary. Having spent the previous seven full weeks in intense M/s mode with regular cuckings and plenty (and I mean plenty) of play, being forced to put everything on pause for a fortnight feels like a huge slap back to reality. Except, it isn’t MY reality.

Don’t worry, nothing’s happened on the relationship front. Master and I are still very much in sync, our contract is still very much in force. We are just both recovering from Covid. We are at the tail end of the infection right about now, but it hasn’t been an easy two weeks.

When I say everything has been on pause, I mean it. I haven’t been sleeping in the closet, I haven’t been wearing my chastity belt, I haven’t even been wearing my collar. I need to sleep well in order to recover, I had indisgestion which made the belt inconvenient, and the collar made me cough even more.

I have been incredibly horny, but up till today, my body hasn’t felt capable of being beaten-up and ass-fucked hard the way I would like. I haven’t been feeling altogether submissive either. It was difficult when my brain was perpetually foggy and the pressure from my swollen sinuses overrode most feelings of arousal.

But good god, I really desire to be beaten down. Bless Master, I’ve been quite unmanageable while being ill. The sexual frustration from not being able to play, not being able to cum, not being able to do very much at all put me on edge. I’ve been rather sharp with my words and nonchalant with my actions. I know I’m going to pay for it when we next play, which I’m really hoping will be tomorrow.

Master made a comment that it’s interesting to see how my personality is so different when I’m vanilla and when I’m not. Of course, he ended off by saying that he can’t wait to dehumanize me again, because apparently, I’m a lot less insufferable that way. 😂 Can’t deny I prefer myself better that way too… But it’s interesting in these moments of clarity to identify just how different I am when I’m a happy piggy.

Maybe we need to think about how better we can cope with future bouts of illnesses so they don’t upend all our hard work. Or maybe there really isn’t any way around it but to trust that we can pause things and pick them up right back again.

A Weekend with Subzilla

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This weekend has been a bit of whirlwind for me and Master. I discovered the cause of my migraine that I complained about in my previous post. It was hormones. I had the worst cramps the night that Master returned from Paris, and then I basically become Subzilla over the next two days.

My mistake was not telling Master that I was having PMS. I’d told him about the cramps, but I guess it didn’t register with him that I’d be suffering moodswings. It is true that I’m not always in a bad mood when I have my cramps and I guess I didn’t realise just how emotional I was till I was triggered. I really do feel bad having put Master through my hideous outbursts, but I have to give it to him. He handled me like a champ!


On Friday night, we had our first scene of the weekend. Master was very committed to stretching my ass as wide as he could that night. It did not take much warming up before he was able to insert his cock and the similar sized dildo in my ass at the same time. He then tried to penetrate my ass alongside the larger dildo (with a diameter of 4.5cm), but this proved to be too intense for me. He managed to get both in, but I had to ask him to back off after a few seconds. He decided not to push it, bearing in mind it was only Friday and we were probably going to play another two times over the course of the weekend.

I was pretty horny. The cucking scene had gone well on Wednesday night and we’d yet to wrap it up. As Master slapped his cock on my clit, an act that was actually quite painful, he taunted me with little tidbits of his night with Ms D before delivering this punchline – “Think about what you’ve lost.” That got my mind in a good humiliated cuckquean space, thinking about Ms D getting the tender clit attention while I got the abuse, and that this was the only form of clit attention I would receive that night.

My ass was very well-stretched by that point, having been double penetrated by all combination of cock and dildos we owned. When Master eventually stopped dick-slapping my clit and penetrated me, I did not feel much and I knew he would probably struggle to find friction. It was a quandary. I couldn’t cum, but neither could he.

At some point, he gave up, telling me that I was too loose to pleasure him, and to make up for my ineptitude by using my hands and mouth instead. I crawled between his thighs and took his cock in my warm mouth, using my hands to stroke him in tandem with my mouth, the way I knew he liked. I looked to him for some acknowledgement, but he’d picked up his smartphone and was busy scrolling, maybe surfing porn, maybe playing some online game… I had no clue.

What I did realise, however, was that this bothered me immensely. You would think that, being a cuckquean, I’d relish the feeling of being ignored or cast aside in play. But the truth is, I hated it. Honestly, this is a scene that has played out too often with my ex-dominant and I strongly disliked the memories it brought back and also the accompanying negativity. Yet, I also knew what Master was trying to achieve, it was just another form of humiliation. I got it, so I tried to get into it.

I worked hard, I really did, but he was losing his erection. (I really think he was on Reddit, not porn.) Anyway, he pushed me down on my belly, told me off in a disgusted tone of voice for having to do everything himself, and then proceeded to fuck my ass till he came. The time-out had allowed my ass to regain some tension, so while I still couldn’t get enough friction to cum, Master could. This part was hot, I really enjoy it when he uses my ass to get off, but by that point, I couldn’t shake off the bad mojo from the previous segment.

During our debrief, I damn near chewed off his ear telling him how that part of the scene had made me feel. He told me it had not been his intention to make me feel lousy, it had been meant to humiliate me further. Rationally, I knew this, but emotionally, I could not let go of the negative feelings. I blame the hormones but I was pretty unmanageable that night. I flat out refused to sleep in the closet, haha.

I do credit Master for being possibly the most patient man alive. He knew it was the hormones speaking, I was super aggressive and I did not sound like myself at all. He just kept repeating that he’d heard me, he wouldn’t recreate that scene again, and asked what he could do or say to make me feel better. After an hour or so, I’d finally calmed down and I apologised for my outburst.

We discussed my trigger and came to the conclusion that I require connection and engagement when we play – a lot of it. Humiliation only works when I feel humiliated, not angry. And for that, he could not ignore me. If he had used his words and gaze to humiliate me for having too loose an ass to pleasure him, thus my task of getting him off with my hands and mouth, that would have been hot. I also shared with him that cuckqueaning for me CANNOT lead to me being less desired. If anything, I need to feel even more desired after each cucking, even if it doesn’t play out with a traditional pleasure-focused scene. Again, we’re still learning and figuring things out, and this was an important lesson.


Saturday went a lot better for the two of us. We had a really intense scene in the afternoon followed by a nice dinner at a bouchon lyonnais across the street. Master could tell that I was feeling a lot less submissive because of my hormones, which we had by this point acknowledged. However, I was still horny and I badly wanted to be manhandled and forced into physical submission. It was the mental submissive headspace which remained rather inaccessible, no matter how hard I tried. As a result, we focused on the physical for this scene, with a bit of cuckqueaning humiliation brought in for extra fun.

He started by giving me some impact. I had bought a couple of new impact toys for his birthday – a flogger, a dragon tail whip and a short thick delrin cane. He used all three on me, but eventually gravitated to the cane as it’s the easiest to wield for the maximum amount of pain. I will admit this was very welcome. I needed to get out of my own head and the pain was a nice focus. As he hit me, he told me to think about the difference in treatment between me and Ms D. She got all the nice touches, the clitoral attention, the focus on her pleasure. I got the pain. That was hot.

Master told me to lie on my back, hugging my knees to my chest. He lubed up my ass with my overflowing pussy juice before sticking the smaller of our two dildos in it. It went in with zero resistance, none at all. Master started telling me that my ass was looser than Ms D’s pussy and that soon, I wouldn’t be able to pleasure him with it at all. Of course I felt like telling him that this was nobody’s fault but his, seeing as his new hobby was inserting anything and everything up my ass at the same time, but I kept my mouth shut. See, I can control myself when I have to.

It wasn’t long before Master was double penetrating me in the ass yet again with the same dildo. I felt him reach for the larger dildo and I forced myself to relax as best as I could. It took a little bit of manoeuvring but he managed to make it fit along with his cock. This time, it was a lot easier to take. I still felt filled and stretched beyond belief so I had him stop moving for a while in order to get accustomed to the sensation. Ater a minute or two, I gave him the cue to start moving slowly. He managed to fuck me with the large dildo in my ass for a little… Perhaps a minute. Eventually, I had to ask him to withdraw for the discomfort was quickly becoming overwhelming. Still, it was progress!

My favourite part of the scene was the end, when Master came in my ass. He inserted the smaller dildo into me while I was lying face down on the bed and told me to hold it in place. I shoved my arms under my torso and grabbed hold of the base of the dildo with my fingers on either side of my pussy. I was so wet and slick it was honestly difficult to get a grip. I hoped I wouldn’t slip up at the last moment and ruin Master’s pleasure. That would be funny, wouldn’t it? Lol. Maybe not so much, hehe.

Anyway, with me holding onto the dildo, Master slipped his cock in on top of it so the bottom of his cock was rubbing against the length of the dildo as he fucked me. That was… possibly the hottest thing we have done in a while. I could not cum at all because the dildo was stationery in my ass and I think I need stimulation on the front wall of my rectum for any orgasm to happen. I just felt really full and really used. I lay there, mostly silent except for the occasional whimper, feeling like a sex doll. Master fucked me really hard this way until he finally came in my ass. When he slid his cock out, his cum snaked down the length of the dildo, pooling at the base. He told me to walk to the shower with the dildo still in my ass and only to remove it when I was safely in it. Haha!


After our scene, we cuddled for a long while before getting dressed and heading to the bouchon lyonnais, a typical small homely Lyonnais restaurant, for dinner. I was well fucked and pretty satiated in the kink department, but let’s not forget I was still prickly as fuck. The night ended with us having a very very long talk about our dynamic and cuckqueaning. We are still honoring the contract, for sure, but we acknowledged that I need a few things we hadn’t realised before.

For starters, he’s given me the right to call a pause to our dynamic when I feel the onset of PMS. We’ll still play, but certain things will be paused, like sleeping in the closet, service-oriented submission. Basically, I get a time-off for a maximum of three days per month, if the need arises. If my PMS is manageable, as it sometimes is, I don’t have to activate this. Still, it’s comforting to have this option, and on Master’s end, it’s also a small cost to avoid facing Subzilla again. I also now have the option to pause the cuckqueaning dynamic for a period of a week, mainly to be activated if the previous week’s cucking was especially emotional.

We also realised that I cannot deal with being compared to Ms D in ways that are non-physical/sexual. It’s hot for me when Master highlights the difference in sexual treatment between me and her, or even between our bodies, but it’s not hot when he talks about her successes as a person, or how much he admires her. It’s not that I don’t think she’s impressive, I’m sure she is. I guess I just prefer to think of her as a sexual competitor and nothing else. It might also be that I harbour some self-esteem issues from being his full-time slave, having once been in a high-earning profession. I suppose this will change over time as I come to let go of my own hang-ups that are fueled by societal pressures. But for now, I really can’t deal with this form of jealousy.

Master has been absolutely patient and stellar in dealing with his Subzilla this weekend. I’m still a little touchy today, but the edge has definitely gone away. I’m going to be a lot better with monitoring my period calendar and identifying red zones in future.

Psst… For those of you who think Master is very lucky to have me, I am quite a handful, as you can see. LOL!

Cucked by Ms D Part 2

cuckquPhoto by We-Vibe Toys on Unsplash

Please find Part 1 here.

This post is more introspection, less sex. Master and I have not had our customary “wrap up” scene. We usually have a light one on Friday night (tonight) and then an intense one on Sunday. So, this post is more of a summary of how the night went and my thoughts/feelings on it.

This particular cuckqueaning experience was a very positive one for me. As I shared in the first post, I was tasked by Master to apply nipple clamps at the start of his dinner with Ms D, and it wasn’t until 40 minutes later that she sent me a voice message through Master giving me permission to remove them. This little act kept me somewhat involved while being in an entirely different city.

Master also followed up with a picture of his lovely date which made me feel all sorts of things. Ms D is attractive in an unconventional way, which I know appeals greatly to Master. She exudes an air of confidence which adds to her allure. I also know that she is very accomplished, a little nugget of information Master slipped in, that got me feeling rather small. And then there was the fact that they were enjoying food and wine in what looked like a very nice restaurant. This got me a little jealous as Master and I rarely dine out, usually only on special occasions. (Note: Nice dinners are a reward for my good behaviour, thus they are not an entitlement I expect as Master’s wife.)

The rest of the night while they adjourned to Ms D’s place and played was quiet for me. Master updated with short texts here and there, but I was otherwise on my own. This is probably the part where it started getting a little difficult. Still, I knew Master would be returning to his room for the night, and I had asked for him to text me when he left. If I was still up, I badly wanted some time on a call with him. I went to sleep in my piggy bed, though I knew it would be fitful.

And this is where it got a little bit awry. I awoke just past 2am and saw a few texts from Master saying he was done and would be leaving soon. These had been sent about 30 minutes prior at 1.30am. So I got in touch, hoping to catch him on his way back, but was met with silence for close to an hour. Logically, I knew that he had probably forgotten the time and was still at her place, but I started getting very anxious. Anyway, when he finally checked his texts at 3am, he let me know he was leaving and we had our call.

I’ll admit I was fuming. I felt extremely out of control having him disappear on me the way he did. However, on his end, he’d assumed I’d gone to sleep and didn’t feel the need to update me again. It was a classic case of miscommunication and the experience taught us the importance of very regular check-ins for me to feel secure. It also made me realise that I personally require a debrief call with Master after each scene, sort of aftercare for me. Even though I am not physically present, the whole experience is in essence a very intense emotional scene.

Although this part of the night was challenging, I’m really happy it gave us an opportunity to discover my needs to keep me feeling safe. We had a good talk and I identified two things. The first, as mentioned above, is a debrief after the scene. The second, I discovered quite unexpectedly. I discovered that it really bothers me in a bad way when Master spends the night with someone else. When Master had failed to respond to his messages, my brain had instantly gone down the rabbit hole assuming he’d fallen asleep and would be spending the night, and that was not ok. I didn’t realise it at the time, but it was precisely the sleeping over that had made the previous two cuckings so difficult for me.

However, I didn’t know why this mattered so much to me and I wasn’t able to express it to Master either until last night. I attended TheKinkShrink’s workshop on jealousy and she explained there were two types between couples – sexual jealousy and emotional jealousy. That’s when it started to make sense. I fetishize sexual jealousy, but emotional jealousy is currently a limit. I relish the jealousy and humiliation from Master playing with and fucking someone else, but I am unable to process the jealousy of him being intimate with someone else and potentially developing feelings. Sleeping sans sex with someone else is a whole lot more intimate than fucking, and this makes me jealous in a bad way.

I’m reassured that Master is respectful of my needs and willing to give me time to embrace the situation. We agreed on certain boundaries (no sleeping over, a call at the end of the night) for the time being, until I get more comfortable with the whole situation. I am aware that emotions will inevitably develop in any relationship, play or otherwise, and I am also aware that not spending the night is arbitrary in nature. I am certain that I will be able to accept this eventually, but for now, this helps me a tonne.

On the upside, Master is very taken by Ms D, so taken that he shared he would like to see her exclusively. I am surprisingly comfortable with this. I find Ms D to be very respectful of our dynamic and interested in contributing to it. And honestly, the knowledge that just one other woman is getting all the pleasure and orgasms that I’m not is HOT. This opens up so many more possibilities in the future for a more intense cuckqueaning dynamic. I do seek her patience in allowing me to get used to things little by little, as I have always been able to do in the past.

I am well aware that it is not possible to prevent the development of feelings, even if a relationship is supposed to be purely sexual. Over time, fondness and attachment grows and I am prepared for that. Master and I had a good discussion and agreed that our dynamic would always take centrestage. I still hold the right to my safeword, but I agreed not to use it unless my boundaries are breached or our dynamic is affected. For now, I think this is the best deliverance of control I can manage in the context of cuckqueaning, and I am comfortable with that.

Finally, I have so many ideas on how I see this dynamic potentially growing with Ms D, but I think that deserves its own post. I’ll end off by letting you know that I wrote her a nice little thank-you message for taking such good care of Master. I really hope she likes it. 🙂

Cuckqueaning as a fix for insecurity?

Photo by Nate Neelson on Unsplash

A kinky friend whom I exchange with regularly asked me today whether a part of my desire to be cucked might stem from an inner fear that I am not enough to keep Master interested for a lifetime, and whether the ‘high’ I enjoy from cuckqueaning might in fact be a response to my martyrdom and self-sacrifice. This was perhaps too complicated a question to wake up to, and after banging out a sleepy response to her on Telegram, I continued to give the topic more thought over the course of the day.

The first part of the question is easy to answer. It is true that I lack positive examples of happily married couples who have withstood the test of time. Take my parents, for example. After thirty over years of marriage, one horrid extramarital affair that wore the entire family thin and a honeypot scam that rendered the family near penniless, they decided to call it quits in an extravagantly hostile manner. It shouldn’t be too difficult to imagine that this had a very negative impact on me. It might also have been the push that led to the dissolution of my first marriage; the moment it became very apparent that I didn’t see myself growing old with him anymore, I initiated the separation.

Nonetheless, the above coupled with the wearing down of my self-esteem, confidence and value by my ex-husband does not make for a good recipe. So yes, I will readily admit that despite the time and effort my Master has put into picking up the pieces of my broken soul, teaching me to love myself again, it is challenging for me to have the required confidence in myself to truly believe that I deserve him. Deep down inside, I do feel that he is too good for me.

I feel like I lucked out. Somehow, I struck the lottery with this one. He’s attractive, incredibly intelligent (he thinks circles around me), well-spoken, interesting and funny. Not just that, he gets me. He seems to always know exactly what I need; he pushes all the right buttons, even when it gets difficult. He instinctively knows how to give me just enough of a push but also provide enough time and space for me to warm up to an idea. I’ve never felt truly afraid nor in danger of being messed up too far over the edge that I’ll lose myself, despite us tangling with some rather taboo topics in our marriage.

And therefore, I don’t deserve him, right? I’m not speaking from my cuckquean heart here, I’m speaking as me. He’s given me the life I could only dream of in the past. I don’t have to work if I choose not to, I have the space to devote myself to being exactly who I want to be. I can pick up projects that I find interesting, learn a new skill, take up a new hobby. He encourages and he provides the opportunities. I mean, he’s given me the chance to make an entirely new life in a foreign country, something many dream of but simply don’t have the resources to undertake.

And therein lies what I find most interesting. In spite of my perhaps crippling concerns that I am not good enough for Master, we’ve taken this and bundled it up and turned it into something we use for play. Perhaps in some warped fashion, this is my way of taking ownership of my insecurities. Yes, I have a deep fear of being cheated on, my father having wrecked the family with his affair. Maybe cuckqueaning is my way of ensuring Master’s need for variety is always met, and by encouraging him to date and fuck other women, it diminishes greatly the need for him to cheat. And I am ok with this, because I’m not just doing it for him, I’m also doing it for me.

This leads me to the second part of the question. Do I enjoy cuckqueaning because I secretly enjoy the idea that I am sacrificing myself? I don’t think so. Honestly, if it were altogether just a negative experience, I wouldn’t be into it. It’s not so much the sacrifice that drives me, it’s the humiliation of knowing I am sending my Master, my husband, into the arms and bed of another woman. It’s the humiliation of knowing she can show him pleasures I cannot, even if, in our case, I am denied pussy sex for the very purpose of this comparison. So, I think, no. I’m no martyr. I’m just a silly little cuckquean who really really gets off on being made to feel smaller in comparison to another. Again, I’m doing it for me, and he’s just a really lucky man (as many like to tell me) who gets to benefit from my fucked up kink.

My Monster

Monsters come in all shapes, sizes and forms. My monster took the form of a sociable young man, well-spoken and well-liked. What the people around us did not realise was that he only ever showed his true form to me, when we were alone and there was no one else around to watch his unpleasant transformation.

For ten years, I stayed with him, not because I was happy, but because I truly did not know better. I did not know, for instance, that it was not normal to be in a relationship with periods of excessive highs, where I felt like everything I had taken was worth it because he DID love and care about me, but also with very long periods of miserable lows, where the urge to do better for myself was so so present yet ignored. I did not know that I had the right to have my limits respected, that I had the right to be respected, that I had the right to deserve more. It’s true that he was there through a lot of the shit my family put me through in those days, and I felt indebted to him and his kindness, so much so that I closed a blind eye, nay, two eyes, to the slow but steady erosion of my self-worth and self-value in his hands.

It’s been slightly over two years now that I have walked out. For a long time, the memories were too painful to deal with. I started out by talking them through with my Master, but it soon became evident that I needed more help. So I sought therapy. Fast forward many sessions, a tonne of journaling and even more self-reflection, I’m finally ready to share. I thought that time would heal all wounds, that over time, I’d let go of the negative and only remember the pleasant. But this hasn’t been my experience at all. In contrast, I find that I can’t quite recall the good times anymore. Every time I bring him to mind, all I remember are the bad.

I remember his anger. I remember how every time I tried to have a discussion with him over something or other I wanted addressed in our dynamic or relationship, he would shut down. I remember the hardening of his jaw, the veins in his face as it became more and more apparent that he was minutes from blowing up. I remember his common refrain – “Are you that unhappy? Do I make you so unhappy? If you’re that unhappy, the door is always open.”

I have never been good at communicating my feelings in person, having grown up in a household with parents who did not talk. My mother used to always tell me that as long as I lived under her roof, I had to abide by her rules and that the word ‘compromise’ did not exist in her vocabulary. And so, even as an adult, it takes me a very long time to express myself, particularly when in a confrontation. I remember so well the look of disdain on his face and the subsequent “Are you stupid? Why are you just staring at me like that? Are you a fucking owl?”

My anxiety skyrocketed in the years we spent together. I experienced full-blown panic attacks while we engaged in arguments. The worst was him not believing that I was having a panic attack. He told me outright to stop pretending. And then when the panic attack triggered my asthma and I started wheezing, he started getting worried, felt bad and then as always, started victimizing himself for being the cause to my anxiety. I felt bad for being anxious, stupid as that sounds now. I felt bad for putting him through my neurosis, for not being able to communicate with him like a level-headed adult would.

I remember him yelling. I remember very clearly the way his neck would tense when he would yell at the top of his lungs right in front of me. He never touched me in those moments, so there was no abuse, right? Wrong. The intimidation was there every single time. You want to know why I walked? The last time I let him yell at me, he punched the door so hard I felt real fear. I wasn’t going to stick around to wait for that fist to touch me, even if he said it never would have.

I remember how my consent did not matter. We were in an unhealthy D/s dynamic. I had limits, mind you, but he told me I could have none. He told me that my soft limits weren’t limits at all, and my hard limits, well they could be pushed. Honestly, it wouldn’t have mattered to me quite so much if this were limited to play between just the two of us. I play hard behind closed doors, and I probably would have found the whole CNC thing very hot IF it had not involved others, involved members of the public at times.

I remember he used to have this huge kink for taking me to a bar and watching me get hit on by other men. Harmless, right? No. One night, he took me clubbing and two men showed interest in me. He encouraged them to buy us drinks, lots of drinks. Of course, I expressed concern, but I was told to trust him, he would manage it. Even if anything happened that night, he would be there. We played with others quite regularly so I was prepared for a little bit of play, maybe even sex. What I was not prepared for was him allowing himself to get so inebriated he was no longer able to take care of me. He knocked out somewhere between the club and our hotel room and these two gentlemen (yea, right) helped us back. I was also equally drunk, but not to the point where I lost consciousness.

When he got to the hotel room, he knocked out on the bed, and they, they basically helped themselves to me. I struggled with this for years – was I raped or not? I thanked them for helping us back, they started feeling me up but then revealed they didn’t have condoms on them. I told them it was not a good idea and they should go, but they told me it was ok. And in my drunken stupor, I was fucked by both guys. I was so drunk the entire thing was a blur. Even till today, I have snippets in my memories, but no clear picture of their faces, no clear timeline of what actually happened. What I do remember was waking up the following morning, realising what had taken place, and feeling extremely violated and worried that they might have given me something. The two ‘gentlemen’ had even stolen my ex’s RayBan sunglasses, which he bloody deserved.

I was mad. I was so angry with him for failing me. I still am. I don’t know how a couple can move on from something like that, and perhaps we never did, because after his feeble apology the next morning and a clear STD test, he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. And we were just recently married so I kept mum about it too. But it was too huge a skeleton for us to keep in our closet and it eventually started pushing its way out. (I’ve spent hours dissecting this in therapy and coming to terms with the fact that yes, I was raped, and that no, it was not my fault.)

I thought that after this incident, things would change. That he would realise that his actions had irrevocably affected my self-worth, but no. He continued to make flagrant remarks about my body to anyone and everyone who would listen. My tattoo artist, for instance, with whom I had a friendly but professional relationship. He would egg my artist on constantly to touch me, to take advantage of me. And here’s the kicker. He really did one day. I’d shown up for a session and he whipped his fucking dick out and asked me to suck it. I still hate myself for how I responded in that situation. Yes, I did it. I felt cornered, I didn’t want to sour things and for him to do a poor job on my art, which, now that I think of it, was retarded of me.

After the fact, I blew up at my ex for encouraging this, telling him that I had repeatedly told him to stop, to avoid ruining my relationship with my artist. Here’s what he said – “But you never told me no. You never sat me down and said it seriously so I knew it was a no.” I still don’t know how to respond to that. No is no. As for my artist, I made it very clear something like that would never happen again, and to his credit, he never tried anything funny again.

There are so many other instances in which he betrayed me, let down my trust. I learned that he snogged one of our kinky female friends outside the restroom on our wedding day. At this point, we had NOT yet explored cuckqueaning. He knew that my limit was that we always play together. And this was a vanilla event – our wedding for crying out loud. I only learned about this after we split when she apologised, thinking I’d witnessed it (I had not, I had been looking in the general direction, but I had not seen) and worrying I held it against her. Why he felt it was acceptable to do something like this in the same venue where our vanilla friends, family and colleagues were, I will never understand.

Then there was the time when I introduced him to someone I greatly admired – a fellow Pro Domme who had made a very big name for herself. She was someone I looked up to as a business mentor, and she never shied away from sharing about what she did and how she did it. She was extremely supportive. Knowing all this, when he met her, he groped her ass. She called him out for it on the spot, but later told me she would let the matter rest on account of her friendship with me. When I confronted him about this, he failed to see what he had done wrong. And this was probably when I realised that he was in fact, truly misogynistic.

I have so many more memories but I think I will stop there. It’s already taken a lot out of me to put these in words. But this is why I have trust issues. This is why, for the entire of the first year I was with my current husband/Master, the slightest sound/movement in the night would jolt me awake. Now, I sleep through almost anything. I haven’t had an anxiety attack in years. But I still can’t trust. I still don’t cope well with confrontations. When my Master has gotten angry in my presence, I have systematically shut down, wringing my hands together and looking like a very ‘lost puppy’, in his words. We’ve worked so hard at helping me unlearn certain reflex responses over the past few years it’s insane. I often feel like my Master is being punished for something he had no hand in.

But that said, I’ve made good progress. With my Master, I’ve learned how to speak up for myself. I’ve learned how to say no. I’ve learned how to love myself again. I’ve learned that I have value. I’ve learned that my anxiety is loved, that it’s ok. When I still suffered attacks, he’d hold my hands and take me in his arms, rocking me back and forth till I breathed easy again. I’ve learned that my fight or flight response is so fucked that I need to relearn very basic coping mechanisms. I’ve learned that it’s safe for me to be in the presence of his anger, that it isn’t going to be directed at me despite me having nothing to do with the original cause. I’ve learned what it feels like to be truly loved and cherished.

I’m still learning, and I am finally ready to put this monster of mine to rest.

A Cuckquean’s Mantra

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

So it is happening. Master matched up with someone on a dating app and they will see each other on Thursday while he is in Paris. She’s young, gorgeous (I’ve seen a picture), tall and fit. She’s very keen on playing with Master and has even offered to host him for the night.

I was a mix of emotions when I saw her picture and realised it was indeed happening. I won’t deny I was am extremely jealous and insecure, but not in a bad way. I’m so excited for Master, I really hope that he will have an amazing time with her. My pussy is dripping just from thinking of them getting together.

Today, I went to the pharmacie downstairs to pick up a pack of condoms for Master. When I presented him with the box of ten, he commented that he wasn’t sure they’d be enough. Knowing Master, he’ll pack a few extra just to be certain. But ten not being enough?! That surely created a little knot of insecurity in my tummy.

I did a little homework which I feel a little shy sharing, but hey, you already know that I’m perverse and depraved as fuck, right? Anyway, to help myself out and ensure my head stays in a good space this Thursday night, I wrote the following which I intend to record myself reading, to listen to on playback while I use the vibrator on my chastity shield, trying futilely to get some pleasure.

Again, this is raw and unfiltered. Do I truly believe everything that I’ve written? No, of course not. My Master loves me unconditionally, I do deserve him, he’s not out of my league. But my little cuckquean brain likes to think so, so I indulge her because it makes me wet. 😉


How does it feel to know that Master is currently in someone else’s arms? How does it feel to know that he will be sharing her bed tonight? How does it feel to know that, conversely, you are home alone – locked up tight in your chastity belt, no end and no pleasure in sight? How does it feel to have known the joy of his cock deep in your pussy, and to know that it is she who will be taking pleasure from him tonight? Worse, how does it feel to know that you will never again get to feel him thrust deep in your pussy and fuck you long and hard, exactly the way he is fucking her tonight?

This is your life now, little piggy. You’re a worthless little cuckquean, a fuck pig whose only known pleasure is taking Master’s cock down your throat and in your ass. Master doesn’t go down on you anymore, why would he want to put his mouth anywhere near your disgusting clit? Neither does he finger you so hard till the point where you squirt. Those orgasms are no longer a part of your life, so why bother stimulating those bits at all?

But you know Master is an amazing lover. You’ve experienced it before. It’s just a pity he will no longer do those things to you, you sad little fuckpig. And why should he, when you’re nothing in his eyes but a cum receptacle when he isn’t fucking better pussy and ass? And it’s on you, you were the one who gave him permission, nay, BEGGED him to see other women, date them fuck them, whatever he pleases. Deep down inside, you know you’re not good enough, you’re not enough, and he deserves better.

It’s already more than you deserve, to be given the privilege of being his wife and taking his name. It’s already more than you deserve to be kept as his houseslave, seeing to his needs at home. You don’t have the right to more than that, neither should you. Master deserves to enjoy younger women, women who are hotter than you are and will ever be, women who can show him a good time and give him the kind of sex and variety he craves. You are not enough. You are not hot enough, not fit enough, not young enough, not enough.

And of course Master should have anybody he wants. Look at him. He’s young, good looking, intelligent and such a charmer. Count yourself lucky he spends most nights with you, little piggy. Count yourself lucky he enjoys degrading and debasing you, using and abusing you. That’s all you’re worthy of, isn’t it? None of the pleasure and orgasms and nice slow touches, it’s always rough with you. He throws you around like you’re a doll, which you are – a fuckpig. He takes pleasure from you, you take what you can get. Pathetic.

Look at the picture of the lady he fucks tonight. Can you even compare? She’s gorgeous. She’s young, tall, with a figure that’s so much better than yours. Sure, you keep yourself in good shape, but have you seen your Master? He’s in another league, piggy, he’s out of your league. And of course he should fuck superior women who deserve him, not you. Imagine how amazing it must look, his body over hers, his cock in her wet pussy. Imagine them kissing, making out. When was the last time he made out with you? You can’t even remember, can you?

So repeat after me, little piggy…

I am pathetic.
I am a pathetic cuckquean.
I don’t deserve to cum, ever.
I don’t deserve Master’s glorious cock in my sad wet needy pussy.
I don’t deserve Master to pay my neglected clit any attention.
In fact, my clit deserves no attention at all, so much so that it’s locked up permanently.
I don’t even get to touch myself.
If I’m lucky, Master let’s me tease myself after he’s used me, but only if I’ve been a good fuck pig.
Touching myself is a privilege, not an entitlement.
Orgasms… Forget about them. I’m lucky I can cum from my ass, if you even consider that cumming. But those are the only types of orgasms I’m allowed, and even those are too good for me. They are a kindness from Master, again, not an entitlement.
I am happy when Master cheats on me.
I am happy when Master finds pleasure in the arms of a better woman.
I am jealous but I know it is right.
I am insecure but I deserve to be.
I am fulfilled when I am cucked.
I am a pathetic little cuckquean.

My Oral Fixation

I have an oral fixation for Master’s cock. It’s interesting because I’ve never quite enjoyed oral sex as much as I do with Master. I have always enjoyed, to a certain extent, going down on my partners, but I suffer from a short attention span… and laziness. Well, perhaps more of the latter. It was fun to give blowjobs as long as they were on my terms – short, and didn’t require me to put in too much hard work. With most of my previous partners, this was never an issue because they were always keen to get to the fucking. But with Master… It’s something I’ve come to crave. And ironically, servicing Master orally is not short, and certainly not easy. 

I crave the way he smells. I could spend so much time just nuzzling my nose into his crotch… Much like a pet, I reckon. He smells musky in a way that turns me on so intensely. It’s a smell I’ve come to associate with him – my owner, my husband, my lover, my home. I feel like if I were to play a game where I sniffed different crotches to identify his, I would succeed. I’m not offering to sniff other crotches, of course. I’m just saying that I recognize his scent as distinctly his, and I love it so much. 

Master never lets me linger for too long without interacting with his cock though. He gets impatient and growls at me to start sucking. And so I do. And I crave the sensation of his cock getting firm in my mouth. My favorite part is when he’s chubby enough to slide to the back of my throat, cutting off my airflow, but not so hard I have to deep throat yet. It never stays this way for long, though, but I love it. It’s soft enough to be manipulated in my mouth; I can swirl my tongue around it while still having it fill up most of my mouth. Delicious.

And then of course he gets very very hard. I crave the way my throat yields to his cock. I can feel the tip of his cock push against the back of my throat, and then my throat instinctively opens and he slides in. Well, considering that the alternative is to get rammed, which hurts, I’d say my throat is quite self-preserving. We’ve danced this dance so many times that we both know the steps, the best positions for me to be in to facilitate fluidity in movement. I always start out kneeling between his spread legs, and then move to face away from him. I find my throat arcs nicely in that position, and I can deep throat with abandon. 

I’m getting quite good at suppressing my gag reflex, but often, I like to trigger it while bouncing my head up and down Master’s cock. He likes to feel my throat constrict around his cock when I gag, and it also helps lube up his cock nicely for entry into my ass. Win win, you see. But most importantly, it makes me incredibly wet to know that I am willingly forcing myself to gag because it feels good for him. And I suppose that visually, this must be quite a sight because this is usually the point at which Master yanks me off his cock, throws me on the bed and starts impaling my ass. 

Bliss. 

My Foray into Cuckqueaning

I’ve received some questions about cuckqueaning, mainly:
– How did you get into cuckqueaning? (Few women are okay with their husbands fucking other women, and you’re cute!)
– Are you not afraid that your current situation will eventually lead to a divorce? 🥲
– Do you think that all submissives should be cucked?

I’ve decided to write openly about how I came to learn about this kink, how I got turned on to it, the struggles I’ve faced, and why I am now ready to explore it head-on with Master. I hope this helps you understand me a little bit better, and also recognise that my interest in cuckqueaning is self-driven and that it isn’t an agenda Master pushes… at all.

FIRST ENCOUNTERS

I first got turned on to cuckqueaning with my ex-dom. However, it wasn’t smooth-sailing. You see, I’ve always identified as monogamous. I got together with my ex-dom when I was barely 25. We had already played on several occasions prior to that, and he’d taken me to more than a handful of play parties. He had a huge fixation on play with others, and I was comfortable with us doing so with other couples, but I drew the line at that. This wasn’t enough for him, unfortunately. We had been together for 2 years when he first suggested to me that we include another single female in our play. I was livid. I remember feeling betrayed. He was basically asking me for permission to cheat. I turned him down very strongly.

However, there are a few things about me that he knew he could use to turn me on to his way of thinking – my intense desire to submit and also my penchant for humiliation. He spent an entire year whispering scenes involving another women in my ear as he edged me, and they always featured me being in a position of service to her. I’ve always been a pretty pliable submissive, and it wasn’t long before I found myself thinking and fantasizing about him humiliating me alongside another woman. At the time, neither of us knew the kink was called cuckqueaning. I went online, found a handful of blogs, and discovered that there was a name to it – cuckqueaning.

LEARNING MORE

Of course I devoured the literature. I learnt that, like cuckoldry, it didn’t always have to carry the aspect of humiliation, although it often did. I learnt that often, the scene was a prolonged one, beginning before the dominant headed out the door or before the other woman, also called the cuckcake, arrived. The scene would not end after the dominant and the cuckcake had had their fun. No, there was always a little bit left for the cuckquean, whether it be in the way of an obligatory orgasm, more edging/teasing/humiliation, or even more pain. I was hooked. I’d always identified as being masochistic, and this… this was something new. There was a limit to the pain that could be safely inflicted via impact play, but emotional sadism/masochism was unexplored territory.

My ex-dom and I started exploring cuckqueaning together about 3-4 years into our relationship, but it was a disaster. My ex-dom was not a good dominant. He was always more interested in his own agenda – the pursuit of exciting new experiences. In the context of cuckqueaning, albeit exciting, the focus has to actually be on the foundational coupleship and the cuckquean, NOT the play with the cuckcake. The cucking is a mere tool to reinforce/heighten the dynamic within the coupleship. And even though some pornography might suggest that cuckqueans enjoy being ignored and cast aside, this is only hot within the confines of the scene. Once the scene is over, however, the cuckquean returns to being the primary partner, the loved one. The dominant should never forget, for example, that it is his cuckquean who makes such a lifestyle possible.

THE STRUGGLE

My ex-dom wasn’t able to make such an edgy kink work in our dynamic, and it was no wonder. Our personal D/s dynamic was in a terrible state. He’d set up protocol that he’d remember to enforce for a week or two, and then it would be forgotten. He didn’t meet my needs as a sub. Often, we would only play when I was climbing the walls in frustration. You cannot play with the headspace of being rejected when you actually seriously doubt your value in the relationship. I didn’t feel desired in our relationship, and I started to develop real feelings of resentment when I saw him desiring the other women we included in our play.

It didn’t help that there was a tonne of gaslighting. Whenever I tried to stop things, express my discomfort, request that we take a break from cuckqueaning and refocus on our own D/s dynamic, I was made to feel guilty for withholding his shiny new toy. We wouldn’t focus on us. Instead, we wouldn’t play. It quickly became a situation where I had to consent to being cucked in order to even obtain any sort of play. And when we entered the cuckqueaning sessions, it was often with a heavy heart for me, because he never bothered to set me up in the headspace properly prior to the scenes. I’d go through with the scenes because I hadn’t wanted to disappoint him and the other party, and often, we’d have booked nice hotel rooms so there was much at stake. I spent years oscillating between loving the kink (in fantasy) and hating it (in reality).

NEW BEGINNINGS

Anyway, thank god I got out of that relationship (marriage, actually) after 10 long years. My ex-dom caused me to develop anxiety from constantly putting me in situations where I was uncomfortable and unhappy. When I got together with my Master, I was pretty broken. He spent the first year of our time together putting me back together again – my self-confidence, self-esteem, self-worth… All of that was pretty much in shambles due to my ex. He pushed me to seek therapy when it became clear he wasn’t able to help me work through my anxiety on his own. About a year ago, I shared with Master my interest in cuckqueaning and suggested to him that we explore it together. He was very curious to understand what I liked about it, and certainly he got excited at the prospect, but he assured me that my happiness was his priority and he did not need or even want to fuck anyone else to be fulfilled in our relationship.

The first few times were very light, such as what I documented in my piece “The Shy Cuckcake”. And honestly, it didn’t start out being easy. After every session, I’d get hit with the familiar wave of anxiety and I’d want it to stop. But the difference (between now and then) was that we would. Master would immediately get off the dating apps, stop communications with the women, refocus his energies on me and me alone. We’d share months of unbridled passion just playing hard with each other, building our then D/s dynamic. I have never felt undesired by Master. We play daily, and it is plain to see that he adores me.

I guess it was a combination of me learning that I could trust Master unconditionally, recognising that he isn’t cucking me for his own gains, understanding that his priority is and always will be me that made me decide to foray into the kink for real. So yes, I know that I’m gorgeous and I know that in his eyes, there’s only me. My pursuit of cuckqueaning doesn’t come from a place of deep-seated self-loathing, or anything of that nature. I simply love the objectification and humiliation that, for some reason, I can only derive from being cucked. We still navigate those scenes cautiously. In the haze of my arousal, I have often requested that he see other women more frequently, treat me more carelessly, etc, but he never has.

ANSWERS

So, do I ever worry that my situation will eventually lead to divorce? No. I’ve been through one failed marriage before and I can say with absolute confidence that this one is good. Master is consistent, reliable and loves me with ALL his heart. In our time together, he has never made a decision that does not prioritise me and my needs. He is protective, possessive and has never put in a situation in which I feel forced into doing anything. This is the man I see myself growing old with happily, devoting my love and service to for time eternal.

Do I think that all submissives should be cucked? Hell, no. I know other fulfilled D/s and M/s couples who are monogamous and do not practise cuckqueaning in any form. It’s my kink, not a universal ingredient to submission. In my case, I find it draws out my submission like no other kink can, but for others, this might be simply through service, being used, etc. D/s and M/s looks different for everyone; it’s taken me more than a decade to figure out what works for me, and this is it. But again, this is just ONE aspect of my dynamic. There’s so much more behind the scenes, such as what I shared in my piece about our protocols.

Whew, that is one long wall of text. I truly hope you found this informative. Thank you for the questions, those who asked them. There are no stupid questions as I know that what we do is pretty novel to many. I’m here to share, dissect and hopefully educate.

❤️,
Piggy